Episode 45: The Stele of Gwangaetto the Great, Part II

July 16, 2021 Joshua Badgley

Image of a horsed warrior from the Goguryeo tomb known as the “Twin Pillar Tomb”, from the 5th century. Though a bit later than our current story, perhaps it was warriors like this that charged down across the peninsula in the late 4th and early 5t… — Image of a horsed warrior from the Goguryeo tomb known as the “Twin Pillar Tomb”, from the 5th century. Though a bit later than our current story, perhaps it was warriors like this that charged down across the peninsula in the late 4th and early 5th century, expanding the realm of Goguryeo under the rule of Gwangaetto the Great. The Twin Pillar Tomb was in Nampo, near modern Pyongyang, the Goguryeo capital after Gwangaetto’s reign. At the National Museum of Korea in Seoul.

This episode talks about the rest of the inscription on the stele, and takes us through the invasion of Silla and other conflicts.. We’ll also touch on King Silseong and his rise to power.

A lot of the discussion of this period revolves around the question of who are being referred to as the “Wa” (倭) and debates over just what was the state of the archipelago—pun fully intended. While it is hard to say exactly who might have been included as “Wa”, we might be able to shed a bit more light on this concept of statehood, which sometimes may seem to be splitting hairs for those not entirely familiar with the concept.

First off, I think we all are well familiar with the idea of the modern nation state, which is how most modern countries are organized. But where is that line between early societies—organized in family units, clans, or even villages—and then what we think of as a state, with an organized bureaucracy and some form of centralized authority?

There are plenty of early titles that seem to indicate some level of authority among the Wa, and there seem to be various paramounts with authority. Early on there are discussions of even a kind of taxation system. At what point do the traditions of the culture get codified into laws? How much were things held together through the personal charisma of a given leader vice some larger state apparatus?

The formation of the kofun is a good indicator. With the kofun, you had to mobilize a large amount of labor, meaning that you needed influence and organization to do so. But just how far did that organization extend? Was it centralized in the court? Or was it a series of family alliances, with the elites in various regions paying a kind of tribute up the social ladder, but maintaining direct control of what happened in their own lands and under their own authorities?

Without clear evidence, it is very difficult to say. Furthermore, because of the language used to describe everything, the Chroniclers uses sinographic characters with meaning over on the continent that may be used in an overblown sense in the archipelago.

And so, even if we don’t see a “state” as such over the archipelago, we may see hegemons who are able to command large forces and draw on a variety of resources—possibly even speak for the archipelago on various matters, but do they have the kind of organization that we would refer to as a state?

If we do believe we have a central state, how far did the “state” actually control?

These are all questions that make this period interesting but also frustrating to study—and perhaps it would be easier if our sources were more trustworthy. But that’s what we have.

Specific questions or comments? Feel free to post them, below.

Haniwa depiction of a boat from the 5th century. Was the Karano just a larger version of this?

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is episode 45: The Stele of Gwangaetto the Great, Part II
So last episode, in Part I, we talked about the stele of Gwangaetto the Great, and how useful a historical resource it is, since it was erected shortly after the period of time it describes—starting in 391—and therefore is fairly close to the action. Of course, that doesn’t remove its own biases, such as attempting to aggrandize King Gwangaetto of Goguryeo, the ancient ruler the stone was created to eulogize in the first place. It also doesn’t mean that it is perfect—there are plenty of lacunae in the inscription and the ancient sinographic script is open to various interpretations by modern scholars. And that is without the modern political and cultural issues surrounding the stone, its finding, and its use as propaganda in the early 20th century, which leaves us with some controversial and questionable interpretations. Nonetheless, it is the closest we have to an eye witness to this period and thus we find ourselves piecing together the story in the inscription along with those in the Japanese and Korean Chronicles—specifically the Nihon Shoki, the Kojiki, the Kujiki, and the Samguk Sagi. Where possible, we are also trying to square this with the archaeological evidence as well.
As a reminder, this is all ostensibly happening during the reign of Homuda Wake, though that is hard to corroborate. The Korean sources don’t mention a Wa king by name, and although there are episodes we can match up between the Japanese and Korean chronicles it is by no means certain that everything is in the appropriate chronological order. Still, it is what we have to work with—the truth, as you might say, that the Chroniclers left us with—and so it is the story that we have to go off of at this time.
So far that has left us with the story of a powerful Goguryeo state in 391 who was making claims, justified or not, on both Shilla and Baekje as tributary or subordinate states. Certainly Silla seems to have been in some kind of direct relationship with Goguryeo, while Baekje was more on again and then violently off again. Goguryeo of course did not find any fault in their own belligerent activities, but blamed disorder on the peninsula largely on the Wa, whom they seem to have seen as the primary disruptors of the peace.
We discussed the conflicts with Baekje and the eventual death of King Jinsa of Baekje, followed by the ascension of king Asin of Baekje and his reinvigoration of the alliance with the Wa, despite—or perhaps because of—Goguryeo’s invasion and forced subjugation of Baekje, including the delivery to the Goguryeo court of top officials of the Baekje court. King Asin sent his own son, Crown Prince Jeonji, as a hostage to the Yamato court to help reinforce the good relations between those two allies, and then he turned around and began and aborted attempt at a military campaign against their northern rivals.
Meanwhile, the Wa had been continuing their own on again, off again attacks against Silla, who was ruled at this time by King Naemul, the first Silla king that we know from external records to have actually existed, as he sent emissaries to the Eastern Jin court. King Naemul had previously sent a nephew as a hostage to Goguryeo, hoping to enlist that more powerful state as an ally in their own struggles against Baekje and the Wa.
Now, the Silla Annals in the Samguk Sagi claim that the Wa attacked in 393, and that they encircled the capital of Geumseong, at modern day Gyeongju, besieging them for about five days. The soldiers of Silla wanted to go out and take the fight to the Wa troops, or so we are told, but the King told everyone to just sit tight—eventually they would have to leave. This actually seems to have been the tactic most often used in similar accounts in the past. The Samguk Sagi claims that the besieging Wa forces did eventually give it up and began to head back to their ships, at which point the Silla troops were able to heroically sally forth and attack them as they retreated.
The whole encounter leaves me with some questions, but the large question is perhaps why they mention this event, which may, perhaps, have been the impetus on the stele for saying that the Wa had subjugated Silla in the early 390s, but then the Annals don’t mention the other, seemingly much greater conflict in 399 and 400s.
You see, according to the stele, around 399, King Gwangaetto learned that Baekje and the Wa had formed an alliance, and he marched south from Jian to the fortifications at Pyongyang. I suspect that he was intending to punish Baekje for breaking their agreement—one suspects he may have already dealt with the hostages in one form or another, as we don’t hear from them again, but if so, that probably wasn’t enough.
Whatever he may have been planning, however, things changed when he got to Pyongyang, as a messenger arrived from his ally, King Naemul of Silla. According to the message, the Wa were at it again and had invaded that country. As a nominal vassal to the Kingdom of Goguryeo, Silla requested King Gwangaetto’s assistance in removing the Wa from their lands.
King Gwangaetto sent the messenger back with a promise to help, and assurances for the king for Silla. He then made sure to gather all of his forces and they marched down to Silla together.
If the stele is to be believed, this was perhaps one of the largest forces the peninsula had ever seen. It claims that there were 50,000 soldiers in the army that marched south. Even accounting for the exaggerated numbers that were typical of the time, it seems undeniable that it was a large and, shall we say, persuasive force.
It is not quite clear to me if the forces that were occupying Silla at this time were just Wa, or if was a combined Baekje-Wa alliance. The stele gives the Wa top billing, but unfortunately this section is one of the most heavily damaged sections of the stele, leading to a lot of potential interpretations depending on the reader. My sense, however, is that it was likely Baekje and Wa, and possibly some of their allies from Kara as well. That most of the stele seems to rail against the Wa could have been for a variety of reasons, including not wanting to give Baekje too much credit in the campaign—perhaps even trying to hold onto some sense of the fiction that Baekje was a Goguryeo subject and not a rival kingdom.
Now, does anyone remember watching Game of Thrones, and how, when they finally got to the Battle of Winterfell, everything was so dark you couldn’t actually make out any of the action? Yeah, that’s what reading this section of the stele feels like. All of a sudden there are a huge number of missing characters, which no doubt were recounting the triumphs of the Goguryeo soldiers, but most of it is gone, forever lost to history. But at least we can get the gist of it.
What we can be sure of is that Goguryeo repelled the Wa forces and their allies, and pushed them out of Silla. But they didn’t stop at the borders. Gwangaetto and the Goguryeo forces continued with their advance, pushing to the southernmost tip of the peninsula. The stele tells us that the Ara—one of the Kara states—also joined in the fighting, though I’m hard-pressed to tell you whose side they were on, exactly. Eventually, though, the Wa—and likely Baekje—forces gathered at a fortress in the country of Nimna-Gara, which appears to have been somewhere along the southern coast. There they held out for as long as they could, but eventually the fortress fell.
Nimna will show up later in the Japanese chronicles as an allied state, though the nature of that alliance has been contested. Some have even suggested that this could be related to the state of Thak-syun, who had helped facilitate the earlier alliance between Baekje and Yamato. It does show up in the chronicles in an entry with a corrected date of about 396, which claims that Men of Goguryeo, Baekje, Nimna, and Silla all attended the Yamato court, and they were then made to dig a pond, known as the Pond of the Men of Kara—which honestly sounds more like the story of people captured in war and raids and then put to work than any kind of official envoy, but it still is notable for its inclusion among the other kingdoms of the peninsula.
Whatever its status at this time, we will definitely see them later on in the narrative, but this is the first reliable instance of a place by this name, and given the contemporary nature of the stele, well, despite concerns about possible exaggeration on numbers and just how firm things like “subjugation” really were, I think we can have some reasonable confidence that a place called Nimna—known as Imna in Korean and Mimana in Japanese—existed. This was a pretty big deal for the Japanese when they first found it, as much of Japan’s later claims to anything on the peninsula would hearken back to the idea that there was an ally-turned-puppet state-turned Japanese colony on the peninsula until it was wiped out in the wars that would eventually see the peninsula united under a single kingdom. We’ll probably be referencing this again in the future as Nimna—or Mimana—coms to play a larger part in our narrative. For now, we’ll just leave it there in the stele, with the idea that they at least appear to be allied with the Wa at this point in the late fourth century.
Now, I have to admit, I find this whole story rather incredible. Not only for the broken glimpse it gives us into the wars swept through the peninsula at this time, but for the fact that it seems to have not been recorded anywhere else that I can see. It is somewhat understandable that it isn’t in the Baekje or Yamato histories—why would they want to memorialize such a defeat? It may be understandable that it is not found in the Silla annals—unless the earlier account from 393 is expected to cover this period. But the real question is: Why would this not have been included in the Goguryeo annals, at least? Instead, the Goguryeo annals record these years as ones of defeat at the hands of the King of Yan, a rivalry that never makes its way onto the stele.
It is possible that the original records were lost. Or they just weren’t considered important enough by later scribes to include. As we mentioned last episode, the stele itself seems to have been abandoned and forgotten, and so if written annals for this period were not available to the later chroniclers then they may have only been working with external sources.
Or, perhaps, the victory wasn’t all it was cracked up to be on the stele. Sure it was an impressive feat, but was it truly as all-encompassing a defeat as the stele seems to portray?
Whatever the reason, we are left to wonder about just what happened here.
Now, speaking of the stele, what happened when Goguryeo had defeated the Wa and their allies? Did they turn on Baekje and march on their capital? Did they consolidate their power and install governors over the southern territories? Did they exact tribute on the Kara states?
Actually, the stele doesn’t record any of that. Instead, they just seem to have withdrawn their troops. There is no mention of taking more prisoners or hostages. No indication that they required submission and further subjugation. Nor did they march back up through Baekje and take out their anger on them.
Now it is possible that Baekje wasn’t very involved. Perhaps, despite the alliance between the Baekje and the Wa, this was really more of the Wa and other allies on the peninsula, and Baekje wasn’t involved at all. That seems odd, however, given that the authors of the stele’s inscription seem to make a point of how Baekje and Wa had made another alliance, angering Goguryeo. Why would that be mentioned at the top of this particular conflict if it wasn’t relevant?
I have a couple theories on that point. First, I wonder if Baekje was seen as subjugated by the Wa, and therefore, portrayed as they were as the junior partner, it was the Wa, and not Baekje, that Goguryeo focused on. This could also be a bit of politicking—after all they still claimed Baekje as a vassal state, but the Wa were clearly viewed as an external threat. I wonder if this didn’t lead the court to focus the story on the evil Wa and downplay, to some extent, the role that Baekje had played. Heck, if that were the case, it is even possible that Baekje played a much greater role and may have been the lead figure in the invasion force, and they were just written out of the story because it didn’t fit the narrative.
Unfortunately, we just don’t know, and we can speculate all we want, but without more evidence I doubt we’ll reach any firm conclusions.
There is still the question, though of why Goguryeo didn’t do more to solidify their victory, as they had done against Baekje, earlier.
Perhaps they trusted Silla to handle things on their own. Or they just couldn’t keep their troops in the field for too long—a large force, whether 50,000 troops or smaller, was likely a significant portion of the Goguryeo forces, and Goguryeo had expanded significantly. Plus, as the saying goes, “an army marches on its stomach”, and they had traveled a fair distance away from their traditional lands. Even with their victories, I doubt they could exactly rely on the local populace to be friendly and submissive. So sure, they could bring the violence, but once that was over, where do you go from there?
Furthermore, they had other problems. Indeed, as I mentioned before, the Goguryeo annals claim that King Gwangaetto was involved in a separate conflict with the King of Yan—a conflict that must not have been going too well as it never seems to have made it onto the stele. Yan reportedly marched some 30,000 troops across the border with Goguryeo in response to a perceived slight. Perhaps the date on that was slightly off, and that is why Goguryeo forces were pulled back, or perhaps they just didn’t want to leave themselves exposed for any longer than they had to.
Or perhaps the victory wasn’t quite as complete as the stele makes it out to be. Perhaps they had chased their enemies off the Peninsula and back to the archipelago, but were they equipped to follow them?
Whatever the reasons there seems to have been an uneasy peace that existed, though perhaps that was due, in part, to droughts and famine that are mentioned in the Samguk Sagi across the peninsula in the succeeding year. And so it seems that Goguryeo was handling its affairs in the north, and Baekje and Silla were rebuilding and working their way through drought and famine. If there were more attacks, the record seems to be silent.
Then, in 402, the King of Silla, Isageum Naemul, died. According to Silla’s annals in the Samguk Sagi, he had been ruling for almost 50 years, starting in 356. Even if it hadn’t been that long, he is recorded in the Jin court chronicles as having sent an embassy in 381, so he had at least been on the throne for the past 20 years, which was nothing to sneeze at. Quite likely he was the longest reigning king in the region at that time.
That said, his death formed an interesting transition. Despite having several sons of his own, they did not succeed him—not directly. King Naemul had several sons, whom one would expect would have inherited the throne, but we are told they were still young, and so Prince Silseong, who had been a hostage in Goguryeo for the past decade, returned and took on the title of Isageum, or King. One can imagine that this must have only further cemented the alliance between Goguryeo and Silla—the King of Silla wasn’t simply a friend of Goguryeo, but he had spent the last decade in the Goguryeo court. He knew the court, the nobility, and likely knew King Gwangaetto as well. In fact, it is hard not to see the hand of the Goguryeo Court itself in this move, ensuring that they have a friendly ruler overseeing Silla for them.
And that may be why we don’t get Silseong merely as a regent—he seems to have desired more than that. He did marry his daughter to King Naemul’s eldest son, Prince Nulchi. But he would eventually send off Nulchi’s two younger brothers, Misaheun and Bokho, as hostages themselves.
Of particular interest to our narrative is the position of Prince Misaheun. It seems that as soon as Silseong came to the throne in Silla he sent Misaheun as a hostage—but not to Goguryeo as one might think. Instead, he reached out to an unlikely source—the King of the Wa.
Now this seems rather odd, doesn’t it? It isn’t as if the Wa and Silla had been exactly friends. And hadn’t the Wa just taken a severe drubbing from their last run-in with Silla and their Goguryeo allies? So why is Misaheun being sent to the Wa as a hostage?
And this isn’t just in one source. Both the Silla Annals in the Samguk Sagi and the Japanese Chronicles record the incident—though the Japanese chronicles do have a few issues with just where and when it is all happening, as the story got sliced up a bit in the Cuisinart of the Chroniclers own fumbling around with the chronology. Still, it seems likely it actually did happen, so what is up?
One option is that the dates are off. It is possible that Misaheun wasn’t sent to Wa by his uncle, King Silseong, but rather by his father, King Naemul. This is the story given in the Samguk Yusa, and it is dated to about 391.
According to that source, the Wa envoys of the time denounced Baekje’s attacks on Silla and then demanded that Silla return their courtesy by sending a prince to their court. This was around the time of King Jinsa of Baekje—he was the one who noped out of the fighting with Goguryeo, somehow got himself on the outs with Yamato, and eventually died, somewhat suspiciously, during a quote-unquote “hunting trip”, so perhaps there really was some truth to this. According to the story, King Naemul sent 10 year old Prince Misaheun—named Mihae in the Samguk Yusa story, but clearly the same person—back with the Wa. Of course, shortly thereafter the Wa found a new friend in Baekje’s King Asin, and the Samguk Yusa tells us that the Wa immediately treated Prince Misaheun not as an envoy but as a hostage, holding him as leverage over the Silla Kingdom. He would remain in Yamato for the next three decades.
Of course, it is possible that the truth lies somewhere in the middle—sending royal hostages certainly seems to have been a diplomatic tool that we see showing up in this period, and we’ve seen them sent proactively, to help cement an alliance—as was the case with Silseong of Silla and Jeonji of Baekje—but we also have seen them taken by force, such as Goguryeo’s abduction of King Jeonji’s own brother and ten high court officials. Personally, I tend to lean towards that explanation—especially if the invasion of Silla by the Wa and their allies was as complete as the stele makes it sound.
The Silla annals also impart a bit of bias on King Silseong’s part—upset that he had been sent away at such a young age to a foreign court by his own brother, he decided to do the same thing to his brother’s sons, exiling Misaheun to Yamato and eventually sending another nephew to Goguryeo and then, ultimately, attempting to kill the eldest of the three, Prince Nulchi. Thus, the exile of Prince Misaheun may have just been easier for the scribes to pin on Silseong, clearing the name of the revered King Naemul of any failure or misstep.
Either way, King Silseong seems to have garnered some ire from the Chroniclers—possibly for good reason, or possibly because they considered him tainted given his time in Goguryeo. Remember, he hadn’t been living in Silla for the past decade, and if the youngest of Naemul’s sons, Misaheun, was already 10 years old in 391, then that would suggest that his brothers were at least 20 years old, if not more—hardly children at the time, and not so young that one would expect they would need a regent. My personal head canon is that Silseong was likely forced on the Silla court by Goguryeo, and likely leveraged his Goguryeo allies to stay in power. That likely would have done little to endear him to his Silla subjects, and may also explain his attempts to prune the royal line, as it were.
Whatever the reason that Misaheun was sent—whether as an envoy or forced to go at swordpoint—if Silla was hoping that, like Baekje, this would give them some kind of leverage with the Wa—or at least respite from their raids—they were mistaken. The Baekje-Wa alliance under King Asin was strong, and Wa ships continued to plunder the coast.
Speaking of Wa ships, there is one more item of note on the stele having to do with Wa, and it is, frankly, the most difficult of the various claims for me to fully believe. According to the stele, in 404, a Wa fleet arrived at the district of Daifang, the location of the old Daifang commandery, which had fallen to Goguryeo at the start of the 4th century.
We aren’t told exactly what the purpose of such a fleet was—were they simply trying to assist their ally, Baekje, reclaim some of the territory they had lost? Was this an attempt to strike at the heart of Goguryeo and repay them for being kicked out of Silla? Or was it something else? But whatever the purpose, we can be sure they didn’t have Goguryeo’s best interests at heart.
Once again, I’m left to wonder if this was really just the Wa, or if the Wa are just the big scary bogeymen used on the stele. In later centuries it is almost a trope that any pirates, especially in northeast Asia, are attributed to the Wa and the Japanese archipelago. Known as “Wakou” by the mainland—the Japanese typically refer to them as “Kaizoku”, or similar—their reputation was such that almost any raids or violence was attributed to them, whether or not any Japanese were actually involved. It may be that such a reputation was already well-established in this much earlier period.
If so, this could as easily have been a combined fleet—possibly sponsored by Baekje. After all, Daifang is a little farther out than the Wa have typically been traveling—most of their raids so far have been recorded as against Silla and the eastern side of the Korean peninsula, rather than along the Yellow Sea shoreline, most of which was under the control of their ally, Baekje. It would have been extremely odd, therefore, to sail a fleet all the way to Daifang without Baekje’s support. Once again, I suspect Baekje played a larger part in this than they are given credit for.
Unfortunately, once again we just don’t know. What we do know, at least from the stele, is that Goguryeo successfully repelled the invasion, but once again this isn’t recorded in any of the 8th century or later chronicles, whether in Japan or Korea. Once again, perhaps the Chroniclers left out potentially embarrassing episodes in the other sources.
The rest of the stele then continues with King Gwangaetto’s military conquests. It is no wonder that he was known, posthumously, by this moniker, Gwangaeeto: The King who expanded the territory. The other two campaigns mentioned on the stele were a dispatch of troops to either Baekje or Houyen in 407 and the subjugation for “Tung-fu-yu” in 410. The king finally died in 412 or 413, and his tomb and stele seem to have been erected in 414.
Regrettably, that’s all we have from this period—at least in writing. Our next window, outside the Chronicles and archaeological finds, will come at the end of the 5th century in the form of the Song Shu, which will provide some glimpse into five named kings of Wa—but that will need to wait, for now.
Speaking of archaeology, though, what do we see there? Well, starting in the 5th century we see more and more evidence of Korean technology coming to the archipelago. In the Kawachi area in the 5th century we see the rise of Sue ware, which is very similar to a type of pottery found on the peninsula, and we see the development of more and more iron smithing, as well as horses and their associated accoutrements. Whether through conquest or friendship, it is clear that the archipelago was continuing to grow from its contact with the peninsula.
But, as I said, this is still where the text on the stele ends, leaving us with just our familiar companions, the Chronicles and the Korean Annals to help us make sense of what we see in the archaeological record. And as you may have sensed throughout this episode, there isn’t exactly a full agreement between the various sources. While the Stele may have exaggerated various actions, and was possibly even off by a year or two here or there, it was written during the living memory of the events it records. It was likely that they had people who could help them and who remembered what had happened, at least regarding Goguryeo. In contrast, our written sources were all compiled hundreds of years later, and we no longer have the original documents they used to compare them to. There are a few other things as well.
First, there is still the question of who are the “Wa”. Even in the Chronicles, we are confronted with this to an extent, as the Chroniclers used an extant copy of Baekje’s chronicles—along with other continental records—when they put together their own history. They weren’t just going off of the old court records and insular oral histories, but they were using other sources. And since, at that time, “Wa” was known as another name for the country of Japan, it is easy to understand how they would assume that all of those events were actually part of the Yamato court, which, at least at this point, was said to be headed up by Homuda Wake.
Many of the records, though, may have only mentioned the “Wa” or the “King of Wa”, without naming names. Without names, it really is difficult to tell if they are talking about the court of Yamato or if they are talking about other, ethnically Wa groups in Kyushu or elsewhere. Many archaeologists still seem unsure about the overall cohesion of the archipelago at this time. Could a sovereign ruling out of the Kinki region—whether the Nara basin or the Kawachi plain—actually mobilize enough people from across the islands, like the stele and other accounts would seem to claim?
I really struggle with this, and I think part of it goes to definitions of “state” and “kingship”. And I think we get a hint of this from the Japanese word for the sovereign around this time: Ohokimi. This term, which I believe is first written down in relation to Homuda Wake’s successor, was likely the actual term used for Homuda Wake as well. He wouldn’t have been Tennou or, as it was read in a more natural Japanese sense, Sumera no Mikoto, as that was clearly a later title, and so Homuda Wake—and possibly others before him, were likely Ohokimi, a term we see glossed with the sinographic character for “King”. But what does that really mean?
Well, I can’t say for certain, but I would point out that we see “Kimi” as a common title in the chronicles, and it appears to reference important people and families—perhaps even the ancient rulers—of various countries in the archipelago, such as Izumo, Kibi, Izumo, etc. It would be natural to assume, then, that Ohokimi was simply the Great Kimi, or the Great Lord—or perhaps the great sovereign or king.
To be honest the only thing that makes real sense to me, from the period of Queen Himiko to our present point in the narrative, is that there must have been networks of alliances, more like a kind of confederation, with Yamato as a nominal head. Even as the dynasties changed and the courts moved about the Kinai region, I find it telling that the name “Yamato” appears to have persisted from the period of Queen Himiko up through the current. Even in the unified period of the Sengoku period, there were identities tied up in the ancient provinces—what used to be the old independent states of the archipelago. That would indicate that even if the territory and even dynasties may have shifted some over time, the name itself seems to have held some cachet and identity with the people throughout the centuries.
Personally, I suspect that the Wa were not a unified state, but neither should we assume that they were all acting unilaterally. Rather, I tend to think that the ruler in Yamato may have acted in a role that was, quite often, primus inter pares—the first among equals. I see a parallel in how the shogunal authorities managed affairs, and even during the powerful reign of the Tokugawa there were those domains that were more independent, held together less by the strict threat of violence and more through an intricate web of politics and consequences.
If that were not the case, then we are left truly wondering: Who are these Wa that are apparently having such an effect on the continent that they are a thorn in the side of King Gwangaetto the great? Why would they be mentioned in so many of the conflicts that were ongoing? Why would Silla and Baekje be sending their princes as hostages?
Hopefully this will get somewhat easier as we move through the 5th century and cover the rest of this Middle Dynasty. Over time, Yamato authority would continue to expand. Where they previously had direct control over the Nara Basin, the Middle Dynasty seems to have had direct control over a larger area, but I suspect that just means that they had a more indirect control over the rest of the islands. This is portrayed, in the Chronicles, as a divine imperial authority, but that is no doubt an exaggeration. Still, the evidence that we have so far does seem to suggest that the Wa could somehow field enough troops to be of concern to their peninsular neighbors.
Speaking of which, there is a story in the Chronicles that I think might fit well in here. It is the story of a ship, of all things: The Karano.
The Karano was built, we are told, by the people of the country of Izu. This country was located on the mountainous, forested peninsula of the same name, at the eastern edge of modern Shizuoka prefecture, south of Mt. Fuji, between Sagami and Suruga Bays. This ship was tremendous for its day—the chronicles say it was 10 rods long, which is estimated to be around 100 feet in length. For reference, that is just 17 feet shorter than the Santa Maria, the flagship of Christopher Columbus when he sailed from Europe to the Caribbean. This thing must have been massive for its day, and it said to have been fast, as well—likely because of the number of rowers it could accommodate.
Now, as usual, we may be getting a bit of hyperbole in all of this. I doubt someone took a measuring stick out, and if they did, that it was precisely written down. I’m not even sure if the measurements they use—often translated as “rod”—were actually the lengths we ascribe to them. Many of these kinds of measurements could vary slightly from place to place until there was a single authority to provide a standard. And most of the time it didn’t matter. Whether it was 60 feet long or 100 feet long the point was that it was big.
And what was the purpose of building large ships if not to carry lots of men and equipment?
The Karano—meaning “Light and Swift—was built around 394, and it was supposedly called that because, well, was said to be light and swift. Based on when it was built, it would have been in service for most of the encounters on the peninsula. It remained in service until about 420, a total of 26 years, but by the end of that time, it was done. Seawater and time are not kind to wooden vessels, and over time, it started to break down. We are told that it had rotted out and was in disrepair. And so they decided to honor the ship, which had doubtless seen its share of action by then. They disassembled the ship and decided to use the wood to burn seaweed for salt, which would, in turn, be sent out to the various countries in return for ships, built as the spiritual ancestors of the grand Karano.
The salt fires were lit, and the salt collected, but at the end of it, they realized that not all of the wood had burned through. Some of it had survived, and so they took the unburnt wood and made a zither, or koto, and a song was composed to commemorate the event.
By the way, the fleet of ships? Well, they didn’t fare quite so well as the Karano. Apparently as they came in they were gathered as a fleet in Muko Bay. As they were sitting there, likely pulled up onto the beach, a fire broke out in the buildings on shore. Apparently the fire quickly spread and it must have caught the boats, and the entire fleet went up in flames.
So once again we have a story emphasizing the nautical nature of Yamato’s power, and describing some truly impressive ships for the time. Even if they are exaggerations, we can see that it was an important aspect of the culture and people of the 4th and early 5th century archipelago. A people we will try to get to know more in subsequent episodes.
But for now, that’s probably enough. Thank you for listening, and I hope you were able to follow along. This period is confusing, but fascinating at the same time. Perhaps the main takeaways are the chaos and violence on the peninsula, which are often times of growth and change, and the involvement of the Wa in so much of what was going on. Plus the various alliances—in particular that of Baekje and Yamato. This would be crucial in later years.
Of course, there is a lot more to come—we haven’t even touched on our long lived prime minister, Takechi no Sukune, and I want to introduce another figure of some note, whom we have perhaps briefly made mention of, Kazuraki no Sotsuhiko. We’ll also go into details on just what became of the princely hostages. There is so much going on this reign, I don’t think we’ll cover all of it—we probably don’t need to talk about the 200th time that the Silla coast was raided, for instance, but we’ll see where the narrative takes us.
So, until next time, thank you for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us on iTunes, Spotify, or wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate through our KoFi site, kofi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the link over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Questions or comments? Feel free to Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.
That’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

Ō, Yasumaro, & Heldt, G. (2014). The Kojiki: An account of ancient matters. ISBN978-0-231-16389-7
Kim, P., & Shultz, E. J. (2013). The 'Silla annals' of the 'Samguk Sagi'. Gyeonggi-do: Academy of Korean Studies Press.
Kim, P., Shultz, E. J., Kang, H. H. W., & Han'guk Chŏngsin Munhwa Yŏn'guwŏn. (2012). The Koguryo annals of the Samguk sagi. Seongnam-si, Korea: Academy of Korean Studies Press.
Rhee, S., Aikens, C., Choi, S., & Ro, H. (2007). Korean Contributions to Agriculture, Technology, and State Formation in Japan: Archaeology and History of an Epochal Thousand Years, 400 B.C.–A.D. 600. Asian Perspectives, 46(2), 404-459. Retrieved June 18, 2021, from http://www.jstor.org/stable/42928724
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253
Best, J. (2006). A History of the Early Korean Kingdom of Paekche, together with an annotated translation of The Paekche Annals of the Samguk sagi. Cambridge (Massachusetts); London: Harvard University Asia Center. doi:10.2307/j.ctt1tg5q8p
Shultz, E. (2004). An Introduction to the "Samguk Sagi". Korean Studies, 28, 1-13. Retrieved April 11, 2021, from http://www.jstor.org/stable/23720180
Iryŏn, ., Ha, T. H., & Mintz, G. K. (2004). Samguk yusa: Legends and history of the three kingdoms of ancient Korea. Seoul: Yonsei University Press.
Chamberlain, B. H. (1981). The Kojiki: Records of ancient matters. Rutland, Vt: C.E. Tuttle Co. ISBN4-8053-0794-3
Hatada, T., & Morris, V. (1979). An Interpretation of the King Kwanggaet'o Inscription. Korean Studies, 3, 1-17. Retrieved June 18, 2021, from http://www.jstor.org/stable/23717824
Kiley, C. (1973). State and Dynasty in Archaic Yamato. The Journal of Asian Studies, 33(1), 25-49. https://doi.org/10.2307/2052884
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4
Philippi, D. L. (1968). Kojiki. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. ISBN4-13-087004-1

Episode 44: The Stele of Gwangaetto the Great, Part I

July 1, 2021 Joshua Badgley

Detail of the stele honoring Gwangaetto the Great

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The Kings of Goguryeo

So let’s quickly recap the kings of Goguryeo. I’m mostly going to use the posthumous names by which they are largely known and this is just a very quick overview:

King Bongsang (r. 292-300) - Not treated well in the Annals, he killed many of his rivals and was eventually killed himself. This or the next reign may have been the point when some nobles fled Goguryeo for Mahan, eventually founding the state of Baekje.

King Micheon (r. 300-331) - Fled the tyranny of King Bongsang and was invited back after the latter’s death. This is the other reign that may have seen an exodus of Goguryeo officials. This is the reign when Goguryeo destroyed the old Commanderies on the peninsula, which allowed Goguryeo to start expanding south but also provided room for the other states on the peninsula to start to expanding and solidifying into independent states as well.

King Gogugwon (r. 331-371) - Gogugwon followed King Micheon. His reigns suffered from numerous foreign invasions. He eventually died defending Pyongyang from Baekje forces, and is the only Goguryeo king to actually die in battle.

King Sosurim (r. 371-384) - He strengthened Goguryeo, who was still involved in numerous military conflicts, especially with the peninsular state of Baekje. It is also said that it is in this reign that Buddhism first came to Goguryeo—but we’ll talk about that in a later episode when we get to Buddhism and how it came to the archipelago.

King Gogugyang (r. 384-391) - He continued to build up the Buddhist and Confucian institutions in Goguryeo, continued to push back against Baekje and others, and allied with King Naemul of Silla, taking in Prince Kim Silseong, King Naemul’s nephew, as a royal hostage.

King Gwangaetto (r. 391-413) - King Gwangaetto the Great is the king in our current moment in the podcast, and his expansionist wars helped grow the boundaries of Goguryeo, and would spark over a century of growth in what was one of the high points of the Goguryeo kingdom.

The Kings of Baekje

Below is a short summary of the Kings of Baekje of interest to us.

King (Geun)Chogo (r. 346-375) - Called the “Later” Chogo in the Samguk Sagi he was probably just King Chogo, originally. He is considered the first historical sovereign of Baekje, though Baekje history claims a much lengthier lineage, all the way back to the mythical King Jumong, just like Goguryeo. It was during his reign that friendly relations were first established with the Wa, which is also mentioned in the Japanese Chronicles. It was also during his reign when Baekje attacked Pyongyang and killed King Gogugwon of Goguryeo.

King (Geun)Gusu (r. 375-384) - Like his father, he was also a “Later” king Gusu according to the Samguk Sagi, but many believe the previous Gusu was fictional, added to pad the lineage. He kept up the fight against Goguryeo and, from all accounts, maintained friendly relations with the Wa.

King Chimnyu (r. 384-385) - He is considered the first king to actually recognize Buddhism. Other than that, his reign was cut short due to his untimely death.

King Jinsa (r. 385-392) - He was the brother of King Chimnyu, and came to the throne because the Crown Prince, Prince Abang, was still considered too young. Under his rule, Baekje suffered major defeats by Goguryeo, and relations with the Wa appear to have fallen apart. He died while off on a hunting expedition, according to the Samguk Sagi, while the Japanese Chronicles claim that he was killed by his own people.

King Asin (r. 392-405) - King Asin (formerly Crown Prince Abang) came to power after his uncle, King Jinsa, passed away. He suffered initial defeats by Goguryeo and, according to the inscription on the Gwangaetto Stele, was made to submit to Goguryeo. Afterwards, he strengthened the friendship with the Wa, sending his own son, Prince Jeonji, to the Wa court as a hostage, much as Silla had done with Prince Silseong. This alliance appears to have further angered Goguryeo, who went back on the warpath.

King of Silla

Surprisingly, there is only one king of Silla that seems to have been active through most of the time that we are largely concerned with in this episode:

King Naemul of Silla (r. 356-402) - Ruling under the title of maripgan, he was recorded as king in the annals of the Eastern Jin. He was likely the king for the early alliance of Baekje and Wa, which may be the reason for his alliance with Goguryeo, sending his nephew, prince Silseong, as a hostage to that country. Later, when Baekje and Wa allied again under King Asin of Baekje, he would call on Goguryeo’s aid.

A note about “Wa”

So I want to talk a bit about the “Wa”. This is how most of the continental sources refer to the Japanese until they rename themselves as “Nihon”. In later Chinese records there are notes that the character for “Wa” should be understood as “Yamato”. But there are still questions about whether that actually encompassed all of the Wa ethnic groups. There are many who feel that Yamato, though a powerful Wa state, was just one of many. It could be that the original Wa-Baekje alliance was with a different state of the Wa, and that the raids against Silla were likewise made by another state, one situated in Northern Kyushu, most likely.

When the Japanese chroniclers in the 8th century were compiling everything, they made the assumption that “Wa” always referred to “Yamato” and therefore deftly added them into the narrative where they felt it was appropriate. As such, it is possible that all of the records from the Baekje Annals, while likely accurate, are not, strictly speaking, about Yamato. I am trying to be careful about which one I’m using, but I won’t guarantee that I don’t switch them up here and there, but just realize that does cause a bit of confusion.

One piece of possible evidence for the idea that this was Yamato all along is, in my opinion, the seven-branched sword commissioned in 372, which was sent to the Isonokami Shrine in the Yamato region. If that sword, which seems to clearly link a state of the Wa with Baekje, was indeed sent to some other group, then one assumes that it was later taken, possibly as a spoil of war or conquest—or possibly as part of the accumulation of shrine treasures that we see discussed in the earliest part of the Chronicles—and moved to Isonokami. If it was placed at Isonokami from the get-go, that seems to be an indication that it may indeed have been Yamato that Bakeje was allying with. Regardless, just know that it is more than a bit confused.

That should give you much of the background for this episode. If you have any questions, feel free to reach out to us!

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is episode 44: The Stele of Gwangaetto the Great, Part One
Today we are going to head back to the peninsula for a bit and talk about what was going on there, ostensibly during the reign of our current sovereign in Yamato, Homuda Wake. This is going to be the first of two episodes—I was initially just planning to do one but, honestly, I felt there was enough here to break it into two shorter pieces.
As I’ve alluded to in previous episodes, one of the frustrating things about this period in Japanese history is how far all of our sources are from the actual events that are happening. I mean, sure, the writers of the Chronicles were bringing in fragments of records that were probably closer to the source, but they were compiling this all with their knowledge of events some 3 to 4 centuries later. We have enough trouble figuring out what happened in the 17th and 18th centuries, today, and that was with all of the things that actually got written down. And a lot of historical records are not the most detailed—people tend to leave out a lot of the whys and wherefores and simply give you the bare bones details. Consider: if you are going to write an account of what is going on around you, what do you include, and what do you leave out with the assumption that it is obvious to readers? Filling in the missing pieces is a constant practice for historians. I mean, if 2020 were recounted in ancient histories it probably would be something like: In the 2nd month of 2020, a great plague infested the land and there was great suffering. And that literally might be about it. Perhaps in 2021 you’d see a note about vaccines being distributed for the Great Plague, but you wouldn’t get a blow-by-blow of what happened, who said what, when, etc. And then, hundreds of years later, someone has to find that particular entry of interest for their purposes and include it in their compilation of events. It is no wonder things get lost.
And so whenever we can get a contemporary account to compare the Japanese Chronicles to, it is priceless. And that’s why the Gwangaetto stele is so impressive. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the fact that it is a huge slab of stone is rather impressive. Specifically it is a large slab of natural stone, 6.2 meters, and about one and a half to two meters on a side. It is covered in Sinographic characters—Chinese writing—and these tell the story of King Gwangaetto the Great of Goguryeo.For us, though, the most important part is that it was erected in 414 and it tells the story of Gwangaetto the Great and his reign, covering the period from about 390 to Gwangaetto’s death – so, in other words, it was written down shortly after all of those events happened. And even that might not mean much to our story except that many of his dealings specifically mention the Wa, or Japanese. So, this stone slab is possibly the closest we have to a contemporaneous, eyewitness account of what was happening on the peninsula, and what role the Wa had in it.
Before we get to what it says—and match that up with what we know in our other sources, let’s talk briefly about the history of this monument so we can gain a little bit of context. We know that it was erected in 414 outside of the tomb of King Gwangaetto the Great of Goguryeo. His tomb lies just outside of the capital at that time in Jian, in the middle reaches of the Yalu River in what is today part of the People’s Republic of China. Shortly after the stele was erected, Gwangaetto’s successor moved the capital south, to Pyongyang, leaving several families in charge of taking care of the tomb and the stele. Eventually, Goguryeo itself fell, becoming part of a single, unified kingdom that would become what we know as Korea, and over time the area of the old capital site was completely abandoned. The grand tombs of the kings of old became overgrown, and their monuments were lost, except to the odd traveler who would pass by and remark on them, but whether it was because they were so overgrown, or just a general apathy, nobody seems to have bothered to record what they had to say. Despite this, the monument continued to stand, alone, for centuries.
It wasn’t until the late 19th century that the stele gained renewed interest. The Qing dynasty had decided to open up land in the area of modern Jian, and numerous farmers, lured out with the promise of new land to open up, started to come in and cultivate the area. This was no doubt driven in part by the encroachment of Russia and the European powers, creating a very dynamic situation. Into this mix came Japanese adventurers as well.
When some farmers reported their find of a large stone slab, the local Qing official came out to investigate. To get a better look, he had all of the vegetation covering the stone burned off, leaving only the stone itself, and using tracing paper he had the first ever copy made. Holding the tracing paper up to the stone, the characters were individually traced, one by one, and then everything outside of them was filled in with black ink. This kind of copy is less accurate than a rubbing, and prone to error, but may have been done because of the stone’s rough, uneven surface. Eventually there would be rubbings made as well.
Only a few short years after its discovery, the stele was noticed by a Japanese man named Sakao Kagenobu. He was an army officer and an intelligence agent of the Japanese General Staff office, and he was charged with investigating conditions in Manchuria and China. Since the Meiji Revolution in 1868, which overthrew the shogunate and put in place a new government under the head of Emperor Meiji, Japanese, particularly military officers, had been traveling around the world in an effort to help gather information and modernize their newly opened state. Japan had a particular interest in the continent, and was already building its influence in part through the rapid acquisition of western technology. When Kagenobu sent an outline tracing of the stele back to the Japanese General Staff Office there was a lot of fascination with it because this object—situated at the head of the Korean peninsula—contained numerous references to the “Wa”, a known reference to Japan and the Japanese, such that even the kanji for Yamato can be translated as the Great Wa. Moreover, these references included language that could be interpreted to say that the early Japanese state had actually subjugated the kingdoms of Baekje and Silla, enhancing the idea of Japan as a powerful early state with historical claims on the ancient Korean entities.
There was also mention of another important location in the stele’s text: Nimna, or as the Japanese knew it, Mimana.
Now as we’ve discussed on previous episodes, the Japanese Chronicles mention Mimana, and in the early 19th century it was specifically believed in Japan that ancient Yamato had a colony on the Peninsula which was referred to as “Mimana Nihonfu”—a phrase used in the chronicles for the 6th century, during the reign of the sovereign known posthumously as Kinmei Tennou. This phrase has raised a lot of speculation and debate, but in the 19th century the Japanese—particularly members of the General Staff—latched onto this idea of Japan’s historical role on the peninsula as a rationalization for their own desires to gain a foothold on the continent. A team of military scholars and civilian historians were convened to go over the stele, which does mention both the Wa and the country of Nimna. They published their findings in 1889 under the authorship of Yokoi Tadanao, who was a professor at the Military Academy and the director of the research into the stele’s inscription.
Of course, Japan would go ahead and continue to push forward their continental ambitions, and in 1895 they would go to war with the Qing in what has become known as the first Sino-Japanese war. Ostensibly this was to protect Japanese interests in Korea, and it largely put Korea under Japanese influence. Japan would eventually set up the puppet state of Manchu-kuo and generally continue to be belligerent until they were defeated at the end of World War II. And while the interpretation of the Gwangaetto stele had not exactly caused the war, it was one more factor seen as pushing the Japanese in that direction.
And so it should be unsurprising the Korean scholars have challenged the interpretation of the stele by the Japanese military. There are even claims that the Japanese military defaced the inscription, changing, adding, or erasing characters to ensure that it fit with their interpretation. This was first brought up by Yi Chin-hui, a Korean scholar living in Japan in the early 1970s who published his own work, studying the various tracings, rubbings, etc. that had been made by that point. This had intense repercussions throughout the scholarly community, with some looking to reexamine the inscription and others attacking Yi’s work. Since then independent Chinese scholars have verified the authenticity of the inscription as it is known—though there are certainly parts missing, there is no indication of deliberate tampering with the passage that has been found.
In fact, in more recent years, another stele was found that seems to authenticate some of the Gwangaetto stele’s inscription—or at least the characters used in it. Though the other inscription was more administrative in nature, the characters used seemed to match those found on the Gwangaetto stele. Similar characters have also been found in metal engravings from this period. All of that helps vouch for the veracity of the inscription as it is.
That hasn’t exactly settled the debate, however, and arguments about the authenticity still come up from time to time. The stele is worn and some of the characters are missing—or may never have existed in the first place, given the irregularities of the stone, which may have forced the authors to shorten some of the lines. In addition, the language it is written in does not lend itself to easy translation. Scholars have made various interpretations of the stele by breaking sentences at different points. Since the ancient Chinese that was the early written language of the peninsula and the archipelago didn’t exactly use punctuation like we do today, and even the meaning of certain characters has changed over time, there is a lot of room to interpret the stele in different ways, and some of the missing characters could drastically affect a reading if they were something unexpected. Scholarly arguments exist for various readings, most biased in some way towards a particular scholar’s pre-existing understanding of this history of this period.
On top of questions of authenticity and interpretation there are also questions about the veracity of what was written on the stele. Though many of the sections of interest to us were written in a matter-of-fact style, we must remember that this was, primarily, a political tool, written to aggrandize a deceased monarch. Gwangaetto himself is referred to specifically as a “King” or even “Great King”, while the rulers of other states are given lesser titles of sovereignty—a not-so-subtle dig at their status vis-à-vis Goguryeo.
Some of these even get downright rude. While the character used for the Wa is the same derogatory character that showed up in the Wei and Han chronicles, the Wa forces are usually referenced as either pirates or brigands rather than with more martial or military terms. Likewise the state of Baekje is actually referred to as Baekchan, or just “Chan”, using a character that means “crippled”. It has been suggested that this was an attempt to label Baekje as a morally crippled state, likely named such because of the opposition they presented to Goguryeo.
There is also a debate on just who is meant by the “Wa” in this inscription. Many have debated that the actions taken by Wa seem much too grandiose to be referring to the archipelago, which many see at this point as not yet unified into the kind of kingdom that could be participating in military expeditions over on the peninsula; certainly the keyhole tomb mound culture is still growing across the archipelago, but there are plenty of regional differences such that many don’t consider the unification of the islands entirely complete. Others have suggested that the “Wa” mentioned here are simply ethnic Wa pirate groups, likely based out of North Kyushu. Others have suggested that the Wa were an extension of Baekje. Still others have suggested that they were a completely different group.
All that said, I think there is still plenty in here to give us an idea of what was happening, and I tend to think that the Wa here is, indeed, referring to the Japanese of the archipelago. It may not necessarily mean that every instance of Wa was a formally sanctioned military endeavor by the court at Yamato. Which gets to one more thing about the stele: the events it talks about don’t necessarily have clear connection with anything in the other written records. Neither the Samguk Sagi nor the Japanese chronicles reference the information from the stele directly. That doesn’t mean they disagree, though: when you look at the events, many seem to line up, even if years don’t exactly correlate.
Now the content of the stele itself can largely be broken up into three parts. The opening lines are about the mythical founding of Goguryeo, all the way back to the legendary King Jumong, and then the rise of the stele’s main subject, King Gwangaetto.
The second part of the stele, which is the area that we are most interested in at this point, recounts his military exploits and expeditions. All told,there are roughly seven different campaigns that are mentioned on the stele. Along with the subjugation of various groups, some of whom we have no other clear records for, like the Pi-Li, the Po-Shen, and the Tung-fu-yu, the stele also details one campaign specifically against Baekje and several campaigns, against the Wa, including not a few invectives thrown at them for good measure. It is these latter campaigns that will be our primary focus.
The last part of the stele includes instructions for the tombs caretakers—those families who were put in charge of tending to the tomb and its environs. Though a fascinating look at Goguryeo culture and society, we’ll leave that for other scholars to ponder.
So enough with the context. We’ll be looking at what was happening during the time covered in the stele’s inscription, and we’ll be placing it in context with the information from the Korean annals of the Samguk Sagi and what we find in the Japanese Chronicles as well to try to get a handle for just what might have been happening. So let’s get into just what we think is going on here, and to start with, let’s check back in with the Kingdom of Goguryeo.
Now several episodes back when we were talking about Baekje we mentioned that Baekje under King Chogo, who reigned from about 346-375, was at the height of its power. During his reign they had pushed north, all the way to Pyongyang, where they had even killed king Gogugweon of Goguryeo, giving him the dubious distinction of being the only king of Goguryeo to ever actually die in battle.
Of course, that didn’t put an end to the violence. Baekje may have had a significant victory, but it appears they did not have the forces to keep it—something we’ll see time and again. So after sacking Pyongyang, rather than occupying the city for themselves, Baekje pulled back, keeping only a portion of the territory they had conquered. Back and forth fighting continued along the border between Baekje and Goguryeo through the next several reigns. But it wasn’t just Baekje that Goguryeo was fighting. Positioned as they were at the head of the Korean peninsula, straddling the areas of modern Liaoning and Jilin, they were also contending with various tribes in the north, as well as with natural disasters—in the years 388-389 there was drought and locusts leading to severe famine.
Then, in 391, the King died, and the Crown Prince, Tamdeok, came to the throne. He would be the one who would later be known as Gwangaetto the Great, and he’s the one for whom this stele was eventually erected.
Now, spoiler alert: if you know Korean history you likely know about Gwangaetto the Great. His full posthumous title is Kukkangsang Kwanggaet'ogyeong hot'ae-wang, and sometimes he is known as Hot’ae and sometimes as Yeongnak. He was probably known as Tamdeok until after his death, but for our purposes I’m going to refer to him as Gwangaetto. If you go out looking there are movies and even miniseries about him as one of the truly legendary figures in Korean history. Even without the stele, he’s a badass who expanded his nation’s reach over the course of his reign. It is in this expansion that he came into contact with the Wa, and thus our interest.
Despite the trials of the previous reign, Goguryeo seems to have been doing alright when Prince Tamdeok assumed the throne. The stele, which was written some 2 decades later, claims that Baekje and Silla had long been subjects of Goguryeo, but in 391 Wa came in, and, well, basically they messed everything up. If we are to believe the stele, Goguryeo was sitting sweet and pretty at the top of the heap on the peninsula and, well, it would have stayed that way if it weren’t for those meddling Wa.
This is perhaps the most controversial part of the entire stele, because one interpretation is that the Wa came in and effectively subjugated both Baekje and Silla. This is based on a particular reading of the characters and an assumption of one missing character. This reading, of course, fits in beautifully with that of the Japanese Chronicles, which does make the claim that Yamato did cross the waves and subdue Silla and at least ally themselves with Baekje. But yet, when we look at the archaeology, do we really see a state ready to take on this kind of an expansionist challenge? According to the archaeological record, the islands themselves weren’t fully unified at this time, so how is it that they are quote-unquote “subjugating” others?
And maybe part of it has to do with that word, “subjugate”. To quote Inigo Montoya: “You keep using that word… I do not think it means what you think it means.”
For most of us, I suspect when we hear “subjugate” we think of the meaning “to bring under dominion or control”, and it is that last piece, “control”, that I’m not sure is entirely accurate. From what we’ve seen of the Wa at this time, their modus operandi appears to be that of a seaborne raiding culture, when it comes to the peninsula. If they can get the resources they need without raiding—for instance if someone is willing to pay them to get out of the fighting and inevitable destruction that would come with it—then that suits their needs. And so I wonder if “subjugate”, to them, was little more than ensure promises of payment.
There was no need for direct interference in their local affairs. As long as people paid lip service to your authority and the prestige goods, kept making their way through—by which Yamato could pay off the other states in the archipelago and keep them on their side, then what more is needed?
But the language that they are using to record all of this is the language of empire. And so I take it that everything could be skewed through that lens as well. The words and terms that were likely expected by the scribes, who have inherited their arts from the courts of the Jin, the Wei, and going back to the Han and Qin states, well, those were based on a concept of statehood and control that may have far outpaced what we actually have in the peninsula—let alone the archipelago—at this time.
There is also the thought here that the scribes of Goguryeo may have been exaggerating for effect. This is the tomb of Gwangaetto the Great, after all! Of course Baekje and Silla had been their subjects. You know… in the past… at some point…. Hey now, let’s not get caught up in all the minutiae, alright? They were ours and you all know it and you can just shut up about it.
Seriously, though, this was meant to be a monument, and claiming some kind of ancient status over the peninsula was just the kind of power move that one would expect here, so I don’t think we need to pay it too much mind, honestly.
That said, in support of the stele’s take on things, we are told in the Samguk Sagi that the king of Silla sent his nephew, Silseong, to live in Goguryeo as a hostage, so one assumes that they were fairly close. Or at least, Silla wanted to be close—probably influenced by the fact that they had pirates on their coastline and Baekje at their front door. That said, I’m not sure I’m buying it that Baekje was in the same position: There are numerous accounts of Goguryeo raiding the Baekje border, and vice versa, and, again according to the Samguk Sagi, in 392, King Gwangaetto of Goguryeo attacked Baekje with such ferocity that of the King of Baekje at that time pretty much refused to go out and face them. He just noped himself into his capital city and allowed the Goguryeo to do their thing.
It is possible that the stele could be referencing the much older connection—that Baekje claimed descent from the same Buyeo nobility as Goguryeo. If they really were founded by nobility from Buyeo or even from Goguryeo itself, the Goguryeo court may have honestly seen Baekje as their traditional subjects, regardless of how Baekje saw things.
And speaking of Baekje, let’s switch focus for a moment: According to the Baekje annals in the Samguk Sagi, this historical noping-out was in the 8th year of King Chinsa, a grandson of King Chogo, who had previously opened up relations with the Wa. He had taken over when his brother, King Chim’nyu, unexpectedly died just two years into his reign. As it turned out, Chim’nyu’s own son, Abang, was still young, and so Chinsa came to the throne instead. Japanese records, based on their own copy of the old Baekje annals, also acknowledge Chim’nyu’s death and Chinsa’s ascension, but claim that Chinsa effectively usurped the throne. If that is the case, one has to wonder just how much of the court supported his reign at this time. The official record paints a rather flattering picture of him, but what wasn’t written down? Rarely do you see this kind of usurpation without some hard feelings.
The Nihon Shoki goes on to provide an account from 392 that claims that Chinsa was disrespectful towards Japan—a rather vague causus belli that goes hand-in-hand with the exaggerated position that they were somehow suzerains of the southern peninsula—so Homuda Wake sent a force to call him to account. However, by the time they arrived they found that he had died—specifically the Nihon Shoki claims that the people of Baekje killed him by way of apology and established his nephew, Abang, as King.
Could it be that with all of Baekje’s defeats at the hands of Goguryeo—especially the latest by King Tamdeok, aka Gwangaetto—he offered some form of submission to Goguryeo? If so, Yamato may have seen this as disrespectful if they believed that Baekje had pledged their submission—or at least allegiance—to *them* instead. After all, Goguryeo appears to have been allied with Yamato’s traditional rival, Silla, and so if Goguryeo asserted dominion of some kind over Baekje as well, Yamato would be isolated. That could disrupt the flow of goods to the islands, and, as we’ve seen multiple times in the past, when the trade spigot is turned off or disrupted the archipelago often experiences chaos. I even wonder if this isn’t the basis for the apparent unity within the archipelago—even if the countries themselves are independent, they would band together to keep the routes to the continent open for trading—not to mention the occasional raid.
That said, only the Nihon Shoki claims that the King Chinsa was killed by his own people. It would be understandable—if he wasn’t standing up to Goguryeo, Baekje’s long-time rival, that may have been seen as grounds for some sort of coup. But the Korean sources we have claim that he actually spent time hunting out at a place called Kuweon, around the time that Goguryeo attacked and overran the seemingly impregnable fortress of Kwanmmi. The King was gone for 10 days, never returning back to the court, and he finally died at his temporary residence.
It is easy, here, to see a King that has abdicated his responsibilities. While he doesn’t have a golf course to go to, hunting was effectively the noble equivalent at the time—a leisure pastime for the wealthy, as opposed to subsistence hunting for your daily meal. And here he’s out gallavanting at the same time that Goguryeo is devastating the north of the country. It would hardly be unusual in human history for members of his court to be eager to do something about a King that wasn’t governing, regardless of whether his actions would have actually affected the outcome or not.
Then there is also that question about what happened with the succession. If he really had come to power under questionable terms, and there was a legitimate heir waiting in the wings, perhaps there was already an anti-Chinsa faction at the court who questioned his legitamacy, and, well—let’s just say that I wonder what actually happened out on that hunting trip, you know?
Regardless of what actually happened, it seems clear that King Chinsa was dead, and Prince Abang, the son of King Chimnyu, was crowned as the new King of Baekje, and he would be known to posterity as King Asin. Now King Asin’s reign was almost immediately faced with the threat of Goguryeo and King Gwangaetto’s expansionist intentions. There were successive campaigns between Baekje and Goguryeo. In fact, there was a campaign of some sort each year for the next three years, in 393, 394, and 395. So if there were any concessions that Goguryeo had extracted from King Chinsa, it seems those were already as dead as season two of Jupiter’s Legacy.
Things came to a head in the autumn of 395. Baekje’s annals in the Samguk Sagi claim that King Asin ordered his troops to attack Goguryeo, and King Gwangaetto himself rode out to meet them, personally commanding 7000 of his own soldiers. The resulting battle above the P’aesu River was a huge defeat for Baekje, who lost 8,000 soldiers in the engagement. King Asin then attempted to personally lead an army to avenge the loss of their soldiers, but they were caught in a snowstorm in the mountains. Many of their officers froze to death, and the King withdrew to Hansan Fortress.
Given the scale of their loss—first at the hands of Goguryeo, and then at the hands of General Winter herself—it puts the information on the stele in perspective, for that stone edifice claims that in the following year King Gwangaetto personally sailed down with a fleet to Baekje—though perhaps that was actually part of this same campaign.
Now, according to the stele, the Goguryeo forces swept through, capturing 18 fortress and eventually making their way to Baekje’s own capital, where they forced King Asin to submit and swear his allegiance. As part of his submission they took away a great number of people—likely to be enslaved—and great quantities of cloth. They also required territorial concessions and forced King Asin to send his younger brother and ten high officials as hostages to the Goguryeo court.
One can only imagine the devastation that this invasion wrought on the state of Baekje, but it is interesting to note that while Goguryeo took people and material, but there is no mention that they left anyone behind to govern or otherwise attempt to directly control Baekje. Instead they left the king on the throne and took hostages as assurances that Baekje would not attack again.
This is the first campaign mentioned against Baekje on the stele, despite the other records of fighting, above, possibly because it was the most significant, or possibly aggregating all of those assaults into one. After all, there was only so much stele to go around. Either way, the Baekje Annals conveniently left this out of their own story, it seems—or at least the later compilers of the Samguk Sagi opted not to include it—or perhaps something happened to it.
This all may explain the corresponding entry for the next year in the Nihon Shoki, though, where we are only told that King Asin “disrespected” Wa—which seems similar to the language used when they sent a force to call to task his uncle, King Chinsa. What form this “disrespect” took is, again, not defined. One could presume that Baekje signing their allegiance to Goguryeo was the offense. But what if it was something else? What if some sort of expected bribe, um, I mean tribute payment never made it? After all, Goguryeo had just devastated Baekje, and whatever trade missions had been going on between the Baekje and the Wa may have been disrupted. The “disrespect” could basically have just meant that they didn’t have anything to offer in whatever trade agreements they had made with each other.
As we’ve seen already, when the flow of trade stopped, that seems to be when Yamato would mount another expedition to the peninsula.
In this case, however, there was no force necessary, because King Asin preemptively reached out making assurances to Yamato, and both the Nihon Shoki and the Samguk Sagi mention that King Asin sent his own son, Crown Prince Jeonji, to the Wa as a hostage at this time.
Since we’ve mentioned hostages a couple of times already, let’s pause a moment to talk about what this likely meant. We’ve seen what looks like two different kinds of hostages, though for similar purposes I suspect that Prince Jeonji’s status in Yamato was much more amicable than that of his uncles’ as hostages in Goguryeo. After all, Baekje had submitted to Goguryeo, but only under extreme duress, and the hostages were there specifically as leverage to ensure obedience. Baekje, however, was under no such threat from Yamato—at least, not that we are aware of. Certainly the Japanese chronicles talk a good game, but as we saw it looks like they may have been more about rading than actually subjugating per se. Granted, Baekje was likely were ensuring good relations and preventing potential pirate raids along the coast, but even the Baekje annals mention that this was a friendly exchange, and make no intimations whatsoever that it was performed under duress of any kind.
That said, it strikes me that King Asin had to have realized how precarious his position was. What if Goguryeo had required the Crown Prince as a hostage, and not just King Asin’s brothers? Sending the young Prince Jeonji to a friendly Yamato court got him out of harm’s way and it helped cement their alliance with the Wa, a potential ally against an increasingly powerful and belligerent Goguryeo. King Asin was playing a dangerous international game—as soon as Goguryeo caught wind of the alliance they would know that something was up and likely attempt to punish Baekje.
For Yamato, this must have been emboldening. To have another kingdom send their Crown Prince to their court must have been a huge boost in prestige. Also, I would suspect that a number of Baekje officials and servants may have come with him—after all, as Crown Prince of Baekje he no doubt had a household to maintain. And maintaining close ties with Baekje is what would lead to them eventually receiving horses for the first time, brining Ajikki, and then Wang’in, to help teach the court how to read and write—and perhaps as the young Crown Prince’s tutor as well.
Now as it stands, Yamato hadn’t been sitting on the sidelines all this time. Besides involving themselves with Baekje when Chinsa submitted to Goguryeo in 392, a year later the Silla Annals in the Samguk Sagi tell us that the Wa invaded that country once again. It isn’t clear if this was a force from Yamato or an independent group of raiders—if it is mentioned in the Chronicles then the dates don’t match up clearly, and there isn’t enough to definitively say which attack this was, but it fits a general pattern, regardless. Clearly there was still animosity between Silla and Yamato, and the alliances were shaping up. It seems as thought it was Silla and Goguryeo against Baekje and Yamato—and possibly some of the states of Kara as well. This was where things were headed on the Peninsula at this point—it seems everyone was picking side, lest they find themselves caught in the middle.
Now if King Asin of Baekje was afraid of Goguryeo finding out about his alliance with the Wa, he wasn’t trying to hide it. Instead it looks like he went on the offensive, himself. A year after sending his son to Yamato, King Asin of Baekje began preparations to attack Goguryeo again, hostages be damned. Goguryeo had been in constant struggle, and in 398 the stele tells us that King Gwangaetto had sent out a small force to subjugate the Su-shen, another independent group in their orbit,, so Baekje may have seen this as a chance. However, as they were gathering the troops they witnessed a falling star—actually, the Samguk Sagi claims that the star fell into the Baekje camp—and King Asin decided to hold off. This was likely a wise decision, as the stele’s text makes it seem like the bulk of Goguryeo’s forces were still available to be deployed.
That said, word would soon reach Goguryeo about the Baekje-Wa alliance and when it did, King Gwangaetto was not a happy camper. He gathered his forces, and he started moving south. And heaven help anyone who stood in his way.
And that’s where we are going to wrap it up for now. This gives us most of the background, including the continuing relations between Baekje and Wa, the conflicts between Baekje and Goguryeo, and the continued attacks by Wa on Silla. Soon we’ll get into perhaps the greatest conflict detailed on the stele, especially as it concerns us and the history of Japan.
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That’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

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Rough Transcript

References

The Kings of Goguryeo

The Kings of Baekje

King of Silla

A note about “Wa”

Rough Transcript

References